Awkward Date
by Yellow Optic
Summary: Scout is in love with Miss Pauling, so it's his job to convince her to return the favor.


"I really have only five minutes."

"Come on, Miss Pauling," he tried to act cool, "Sit down with me."

Scout smiled to himself as he led his date down a narrow hallway. Or as he liked to call her.

His trimmed-and-styled hair, a slightly fancy white suit, had all reaffirmed the importance of today: Four years of lurking in the shadows, afraid to reveal himself too much to her— despite telling a different tale altogether to his team— to the expired bread that enabled him to express his feelings to her, and anticipated all year long for this one moment.

The chance to have a _little_ date with her.

Even for a person as fearless as the Scout himself, one can't avoid shaking at this very moment.

"You can do this," he whispered to himself, "Yeah, yeah."

"Scout? The door?"

Miss Pauling snapped him back to reality.

"Oh, oh. Yeah."

He didn't realize he was at the door. His hand began sweating nervously. He turned to face her.

"Well," he shyly laughed to himself, "Miss Pauling, a surprise."

He shifted opened the door.

"Nice… room." That was the only thing she can say.

The entire interior was presented as an attempt to revitalize this room as a romantic feeling.

Ribbons and balloons were clumsily stuck to the ceilings and walls. A worn-out piano was stood towards the back of the room, just behind the tiny table with a ketchup-red table mat that was just enough to house two plates and a tiny vanilla candle he picked up at the thrift store. A pair of chairs was slid under the table itself. A lonely metal cart of their plates was shoved to the side, deliberately trying to avoid

The highlight was, for him at least, was a spot with nothing. He planned for this.

Miss Pauling stood still as she stared at the table.

"Oh, Scout, I don't have time for this."

He straight up ignored her, but instead plopped down two plates he brought from the cart. He also placed a pair of wine glasses on there, and he gently gave both a pour.

She rolled her eyes, but took a sip out of the glass anyway as a gesture of respect.

"Okay," she looked at Scout as she concluded her sample, "I'll go now."

"Hey, hey, hey," He caught her arm on her way out.

"Uh…"

"I seriously need to go. Goodbye."

She walked toward the door again. Her emotions grew uneasy as she knew completely what was awaiting her. Normally she would have called it off and be completely through with a person who did that to her. Yet they share so much together…

"Miss Pauling…"

It was almost like a plead for her to stay.

Her stomach churned at the thought. If she doesn't make it back in time, she will most likely be fired, let off to do worse jobs, possibly dusting off pigs before they get sent to the stockyard to be slaughtered in some far-off village, and never get to see the mercenaries again.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Scout. We can talk about this later—"

Then she reminded herself. The radio call. The shy asking out. The misused switch that forced her to race to reach the RED team to check on the briefcase. The revelation that Scout was the one behind it.

"Y'know, the bread…?" He was still trying to convince her.

The failed teleporter experiment that mutated their bread. The monster that spawned from the jar. The cold, cold scolding at him when he wasted her one day-off that year. The monster that came through the room, how he made it his duty to save her, and eventually, willing to sacrifice himself with her.

He just wanted to be romantic with her. Is that too much to ask?

"I remember the bread." She muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

She turned to him.

"Fine," she declared, "I'll finish up before I go."

Scout smiled to himself.

She gave in and sat down again. She gave the fork a twirl, and placed a few strands of spaghetti in her mouth.

Her face turned pale as she realized what she was eating. Cold, rock-hard, and the taste… off. Her facial expressions contorted, her breathing quickened as she freaked out internally and fought for air.

 _What the hell was that?_

"I added tomato paste from over thirty different sources, Miss Pauling," he triumphantly boasted, "Then I spiced it with herbs I hand-picked from our vacation to Italy, and—"

He noticed her not exactly enjoying her food.

"So, is this good enough?" He brimmed with confidence.

"Yes…" She said as she forced herself to swallow it, "It was.. good… enough."

 _Oh God. I think I'm gonna cry._

"Great! I'll have you know that I can cook dishes that—"

She had her eyes sealed shut, and occasionally she would inhale and exhale to attempt to get the taste out of her system. Her eyes were all teary from the ordeal.

"Wait," he stopped, "Miss Pauling, are you crying?"

She lifted her head and opened her eyes.

"No."

Her eyes were red from all the tears as she looked at him.

"You look sad."

"It's just—"

"I get it, I get it," Scout smirked, "You are trying to hide it, are ya?"

"I was— I was—"

"See?"

Miss Pauling hanged her head down.

"Maybe a dance with cheer you up!"

"Wait—"

He rose from his seat and grabbed her. He pulled her to the empty spot in the room and began to slowly dance in a circle.

She blushed, and still refusing to look at him.

"You're a little shy," he commented.

She looked up at him.

"Of course." He said as he brushed her cheek, "You're afraid."

 _What does he want?_

She can feel it as her guard against him is being lowered as he smiled at her. It was almost like she was being hypnotized.

With one hand around her back, he stepped back and dimmed the lights. Then they continued to twirl. She closed her eyes in excitement as she locked her trance within his gaze.

"You are a great dancer." She gave Scout a praise.

"Who says that you aren't?" There's a special type of charm in his reply.

Eventually they got tired, and slowed down. She never took his eyes off of him.

And then he would lower himself.

And she would gently close her eyes.

Then they kissed. He dug his hand along her hair as she relished a feeling so innocent, so carefree, and so genuine. There will be nothing to hide from each other. They gave each other a rather heartfelt embrace to top it off.

He slowly pulled her away.

"Thank you." She was grateful.

It's over. He did it.

"Don't mention it." He bursted a short laugh.

Her transceiver went off.

"Miss Pauling. I need you to return to the room immediately."

"Talk later."

She pushed herself away as she swung open the door, and ran out.

Scout giggled to himself.

"Yeah, yeah."


End file.
